


Repave (the same old road remix)

by Zooey_Glass



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, Incest, Kamikaze Remix, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-25
Updated: 2010-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zooey_Glass/pseuds/Zooey_Glass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Sam leaves, he knows that. They've all three been dancing round that truth practically since Sam rejoined them. But Dean knows with a sick, awful certainty that that's not what this is.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Repave (the same old road remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poisontaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/gifts).



> Remix of [Forever in Vain](http://poisontaster.livejournal.com/317369.html) by [Poisontaster](http://poisontaster.livejournal.com/), for [KamikazeRemix](http://community.livejournal.com/kamikazeremix/) 2009\. This relies heavily on PT's original fic. I highly recommend reading that first, as it is awesome. Many, many thanks to PT for writing such an awesome story and trusting me to remix it: I hope I did it some kind of justice.
> 
> Non-con is not graphic but is potentially triggery. Also includes implied consensual m/f sibling incest.

Sam's gone.

Addie knows it as soon as she wakes up, with the instinctive sense for Sam's whereabouts that she's had ever since they were both little kids. Sam's not in his bed, and she knows without having to check that he hasn't just gone to take a shower, or out into the street to buy coffee. He's left them. Again.

The knowledge is thick in Addie's throat, rising up hard and choking. She tries to tell herself that she's not surprised, that she's been expecting this day to come around. Because leaving is what Sam does. But knowing that doesn't stop the gut-wrenching betrayal of it, doesn't stop her hearing the echo of her sixteen-year-old self. _Why are you leaving us? What did I do? _

Addie feels her mouth give a bitter little twist. Maybe there's even an answer to that, this time. _I don't know how you can look yourself in the face, knowing you're fucking our sister. _Maybe Sam just decided he couldn't - wouldn't - look either of them in the face anymore. Well, fuck that.

Dean stirs next to her in the bed, as if he knows she's thinking about him. Addie stiffens, then forces herself to relax. She's not ready to make Dean face this, not yet.

She huddles into the heat of her brother's body, watches him breathe, his face open and relaxed in sleep. They're better off alone, she tells herself, just Dean and Addie, a team.

She doesn't let herself look over at Sam's empty bed.

* * *

"_Shit_, Addie." Dean's panicking, fumbling and awkward even though he's dressed in a hurry a thousand times before, pulled on his pants with steady hands when demons have been crowding at the door. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Addie's face goes stiff and stubborn, a surefire tell that she's lying. "I thought he'd just gone for coffee."

"Addie." Dean doesn't need to call her on the lie.

Her face goes even stiffer, her mouth twisted. "What difference does it make? We can't make him stay, Dean."

"Addie..." Dean says again, helplessly. He feels suddenly exhausted, bones aching under the weight of the past weeks and months. Sam leaves, he knows that. They've all three been dancing round that truth practically since Sam rejoined them. But Dean knows with a sick, awful certainty that that's not what this is.

"Addie," he says a third time. "When did Sam ever go anywhere without a fight?"

He sees her take it in, the defiant anger on her face changing to hope, and then to fear. "Then where is he?"

She's dressed and ready, gun tucked into the waistband of her jeans, before Dean has managed to get his boots on.

* * *

Addie wakes to a dull ache in her arms and shoulders and the croon of Sam's voice. "C'mon, little sister. Wakey wakey."

He's stroking her hair, gentle, petting strokes that should feel good. Except she's realizing now that the pain she can feel is from being tied up, arms pulled behind her back. And Sam's not making any move to untie her.

"C'mon, Addie. I know you're awake." Sam's voice changes from coaxing to commanding. "Look at me."

He slips a finger under her chin and tips her face up so she's looking into his. "That's better." He caresses her cheek with his thumb. "My Addie."

"What are you doing, Sam?" Her voice wavers in spite of herself. She doesn't know where Dean is, doesn't remember exactly what happened after they got back from Wandell's house and Sam disappeared into the bathroom to wash off layers of dirt and other people's blood, but none of the answers can be anything good.

Sam looks hurt. "I thought this was what you wanted."

His hand slides down her face, presses briefly and terrifyingly against her windpipe before slipping lower, cupping and squeezing her breast. "Isn't this what you wanted, Addie?" His voice is back to the sing-song croon. "Don't you want me to love you?"

Addie is frozen, blood rushing in her ears so she can hardly think. She should be trying to escape, working at her bonds to see where there's give, but all her attention is taken up by Sam. She can smell him, heavy scent of boy-sweat bleeding through the sharpness of motel shampoo. His hands burn where they touch her skin.

Sam leans closer, pressing his body against hers so she can feel the thick, heavy line of his cock. "Don't you want to be mine?"

"No," she manages to say, but she can feel her body making it a lie. It feels like it belongs to someone else, her cunt pooling hot and heavy while inside she's icy numb.

"Yeah, you do." Sam sounds satisfied, smug. "You've always been mine." He gives a short laugh and pulls away abruptly. "Isn't that right, Dean?"

There's a pained noise from the floor, and Addie can see Dean now, bound and gagged on the other side of the room. There's a bruise purpling on his cheek, and Addie guesses that Sam knocked him out.

"Yeah." Sam's on his feet now, pacing the room like it's too small to hold him. "Poor little Addie, missed Sammy so much she had to crawl into her big brother's bed. But you were always second-best, weren't you, Dean?"

Dean makes another strangled noise, fighting against his bonds, but there's evidently no give in them. Sam always was good at knots.

"Or maybe she's just like her mother," Sam muses. "Poor little Starla, so empty after our daddy took that demon out of her. 'Cause she missed it, didn't she, Dean? Missed it so bad she slit her own wrists."

Sam turns back to Addie, slides his hand between her legs. "It made her feel so good. You still trying to fill up that hole it left behind, little sister?"

"You're lying," Addie gets out. "The demon killed my mother."

"Nu-uh." Sam laughs mockingly. "You could say our daddy killed her, really, pulled that demon out of her so there was nothing left. But not before he took what he wanted, huh, Dean?"

Dean gives a kind of choking sob, and that's what snaps Addie back to herself. "You're not Sam."

"You've only just noticed?" He - it - laughs mockingly. "No wonder poor little Sammy feels like he doesn't fit in your cozy little family anymore. But then you've been praying for him to fuck you, haven't you? Maybe you prefer him like this."

He reaches down to caress her again, but Addie's already reciting the words of the exorcism.

* * *

Dean keeps them on the road for weeks, driving from hunt to hunt like they can outrun the whole fucked-up mess. Like that's ever worked for them before.

They don't talk about what happened.

Half the time Sam and Addie flinch away from each other, silently maneuvering to avoid sitting together in the car or in diner booths. Other times, Addie will meet Sam's eyes and they'll share a look of fellow feeling, communicating something Dean can't understand. Before, he would have taken that as a good sign. But not any more.

Addie still shares Dean's bed, but Sam's always there in the other bed, and they barely touch. Dean's not sure what Addie thinks about that.

They're in Ohio when Addie finally breaks the silence. Dean wakes to find her gone, and feels a moment of panic before he catches the telltale scent of smoke and sees her shadowy form outlined on the balcony. He pads out there to join her and accepts a cigarette he doesn't want.

"What it said, about my mother -" she begins.

"Demons lie," Dean interrupts her, the words scraping his throat.

"Not this one, though." Addie flings the words at him like a challenge.

"Not this one." It makes Dean heartsick to admit it. "But Addie -" He hesitates, struggling to find the right words.

"But what?" Addie flicks the butt of her cigarette viciously off the balcony, glowing end turning over and over till it hits the water with a soft hiss.

"That doesn't mean it was telling the truth."

* * *

Addie gets back to their room in Cornwall, Connecticut, to find Sam halfway down a bottle of whiskey.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She grabs the bottle out of his hand, too disgusted to worry about preserving the fragile truce they've been living under. "We're working a case."

"'M sorry, Addie." Sam's a sloppy drunk, maudlin like Dad would get on his worst days. "I should've been watching out. Should've stopped it."

Sam's not exactly coherent, but there's only one elephant in the freaking room. "Yeah, well. You were possessed."

Sam clutches at her, too drunk to remember he's afraid to touch her at all, since what happened. What the demon did in his body. "You've got to watch out f'me, all right? Don't let me turn into something like that, Addie. You have to stop me. Kill me if you have to."

Anger boils up in Addie, quick and sudden. "No, Sam. Don't put this on me."

"Addie, please. Listen t'me. At least leave me behind." Sam lets out a sob, snot bubbling from his nose like he's eight years old again. "Don't let me... You 'n Dean are better off on your own."

"No, listen to me." She grabs his face. "Demons fuck with us. And we don't let them win. So I'm not going to kill you, Sam, and I'm not going to let you leave. Because it's _not going to happen_, okay?"

The click of the door startles them both, and they turn to see Dean standing there, grease-stained bags of food in both his hands. "What's going on?"

Addie can picture them from Dean's point of view: her hand still on Sam's face, both of them staring back at him, stupid and guilty. She straightens up and lets her hand fall to Sam's shoulder. "I'm just reminding Sam that Winchesters don't walk away from their problems." She grips Sam's shoulder, tight enough to hurt. "Right?"

Dean stares back at her, uncertain. "Right."

"Okay, then." Addie feels suddenly tired, but the good kind of tired, like she just finished a long run. "Let's eat, then. Someone has a lot of liquor to soak up."

Addie stays next to Sam on the bed while they eat, sitting up close so she can steal his fries every time he looks away. The room is small, lit only by a none-too-bright standard lamp, and it reminds her of nights spent huddled round a flashlight, whispering and secretive. Only they've got a lot more to worry about now than Dad catching them out of bed.

Sam passes out almost as soon as they've eaten, his heavy, drunken breathing reminding Addie again of Dad. His face, though, that's all Sammy, and she brushes his hair back out of his eyes. "Gonna wake you at six tomorrow, dumbass," she tells him, but not loud enough to wake him.

Addie slides off the bed and strips down to her underwear before crawling into Dean's.

"Okay?" he asks, still wary.

"Okay," she agrees.

She curls into the warmth of his body, grinning at little at the soft _oof_ of shock he makes when she worms her cold fingers under the hem of his t-shirt. "So. Tell me about my mother."


End file.
